With him, for beauty, fhape, and air,
No other fhepherd can compare ;
Good nature, honefty, and truth,
Adorn the dear, the matchlefs youth:
And graces, more than I can fing,
Bedeck my charming Highland King.

Would once the deareft boy but fay,
'Tis you I love; come, come away,
Unto the kirk, my love, let's hie;
Ye gods, in rapture I'd comply:
And I fhould then have caufe to fing
The praises of my Highland King.

SONG 201.

THE hounds are all out, and the morning does

peep;

Come, rife up, you fluggardly fot:

How can you, how can you, ly fnoring afleep, While we all on horfeback have got, my brave boys.

While we all on horseback have got.

I cannot get up for mine over night's cup
So terribly lyes in my head;

Befides my wife cries, my dear, do not rife,
But cuddle me longer in bed, &c.

Come, draw on your boots, and faddle your mare, Without any longer delay;

For the cry of the hounds, and the fight of the hare,

Will chace all dull vapours away.

Hark, hark! how the huntfman has ftarted poor pufs,

He has her now full in his view:

We'll never for fake her, till we overtake her,
So eagerly let us pursue.

No pleasure like hunting to pafs the long day,
We fcour the hills and the dale;

At night, for our fupper, we feast on our prey,
When over a pot of good ale.

Since thus, my dear Kate, the fummons you hear, Your toying, I prithee, give o'er,

And be of good cheer, at night I'll be here, And cuddle you o'er and o'er, my dear girl, &c.

SONG 202.

FAREWELL, ye green fields and fweet groves,
Where Phillis engag'd my fond heart,
Where nightingales warble their loves,
And Nature is drefs'd without art.

No pleasure they now can afford,
Nor mufic can lull me to reft;
For Phillis proves falfe to her word,
And Strephon can never be bleft.

Oft-times by the fide of a fpring,
Where rofes and lilies appear;
Gay Phillis of Strephon would fing,
For Strephon was all she held dear.
So foon as the found, by my eyes,

The paffion that glow'd in my breast, She then, to my grief and furprize, Prov'd all the had faid was a jest.

Too foon, to my forrow, I find

The beauties alone that will laft Are those that are fix'd in the mind, Which envy or time cannot blast. Beware, then, beware how ye truft Coquets who to love make pretence; For Phillis to me had been just If Nature had bless'd her with sense.

SONG 203.

A Trifling fong ye shall hear,

Begun with a trifle and ended; All trifling people draw near,

And I fhall be nobly attended.

Were it not for trifles a few,

That lately came into the play, The men would want fomething to do, The women want fomething to say.

What makes men trifle in dreffing?
Because the ladies, they know,
Admire, by often careffing,

That eminent trifle, a beau.

When the lover his moments has trifled,

The trifle of trifles to gain,

No fooner the virgin is rifled,

But a trifle fhall part them again.

What mortal wou'd ever be able,
At Whyte's half a moment to fit?
Or who is't cou'd bear a tea-table,
Without talking trifles for wit?

The court is from trifles fecure,
Gold keys are no trifles we fee;
White rods are no trifles I'm fure,
Whatever their bearers may be.

But if you will go to the place,
Where trifles abundantly breed;
The levee will fuew you, his Grace
Make promises trifles indeed!

A coach with fix footmen behind,
I count neither trifle nor fin;
But, ye gods! how oft do we find
A fcandalous trifle within?

A flask of Champaign people think it
A trifle, or fomething as bad;
But if you'll contrive how to drink it,
You'll find it no trifle by Gad.

A parfon's a trifle at fea,

A widow's a trifle in forrow,

A peace is a trifle to day,

To break it a trifle to morrow.

A black coat a trifle may cloak,

Orto hide it the red may endeavour;

But if once the army is broke,

We fhall have more trifles than ever.

The ftage is a trifle, they fay,

The reafon pray carry along;

Because that at every new play,

The house they with trifles fo throng.

But with people's malice to trifle,

And to fet us all on a foot;

The author of this is a trifle,

And his fong is a trifle to boot.